


Two Roads

by Candybara



Series: Word Count Challenges [5]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Little Red Riding Hood, Banter, Choose Your Own Ending, Gender-neutral Reader, Murasakibara Is Not a Literal Wolf™, Other, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 12:00:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19852726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candybara/pseuds/Candybara
Summary: There’s a purple-haired wolf that lives in the woods just outside of your home, and you’ve had an insatiable curiosity about him for quite some time now.





	Two Roads

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there, my lovely readers! This is the first part of a short story that will split off into two different directions. I'll try to post its updates simultaneously, and the rating will definitely change when I do, as will the tags (wink wink), so keep an eye on those if you plan on returning to this fic! 
> 
> Enjoy ♡
> 
> P.S. Murasakibara is not a literal wolf, in case there's any uncertainty on that front. I mostly intended for him to look something [like this](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/1a/bd/2e/1abd2eb47d910cdaa8e3e685684c6d66--blood-draw.jpg), but I didn't think to explain it in the actual fic, since I felt like it would just end up detracting from the story. Sorry if that plot point caused any confusion!

There’s a purple-haired wolf that lives in the woods just outside of your home, and you’ve had an insatiable curiosity about him for quite some time now.

It’s your most well-kept secret, in some ways, though you don’t feel ashamed of it, at least not externally. You live in a small-minded town, and while you aren’t exactly an outcast, you’ve never once deemed it wise to mention, not to even a single person, as you genuinely can’t think of anything that would get you shunned more quickly than the act of showing interest in something, or someone, that’s considerably out of the ordinary. You’ve seen it happen to many others in the past, and you’re not exactly eager to draw that kind of attention to yourself.

You can’t help the intrigue that you feel, though, and so in the months that had passed since you’d first found yourself wondering over the purple-haired wolf, you’d done your best to inquire about him as subtly as you could manage, primarily under the guise of a safety concern. It doesn’t seem as though any of the townsfolk have ever spoken to him before, but everyone that you’d bothered to ask had agreed at one point or another that he doesn’t pose a significant threat, given that he’s only ever been seen spending lazy afternoons napping under the great oak tree that splits the path through the forest in two.

You know those woods so well that you can picture that exact tree perfectly in your head. The signs that had once been nailed neatly to the trunk are now slanted on their hinges, weathered and worn with age, but habit has you reading them carefully each time you pass through, even when you already know what they say. _Right way_. _Wrong way_. Occasionally, you stop to ponder over the two routes. You’ve been down both countless times, and you still have yet to figure out what makes the right way right, and what makes the wrong way wrong.

Those are thoughts that you only have time for during the summer, though, and autumn approaches before you know it, eventually marking its arrival with the first breeze of the season that’s brisk enough to really make you wish that you’d worn warmer clothing. You regret it even more when the winds pick up later in the evening, and that’s all that it takes to have you dressing yourself with painstaking care the next morning, though it’s not as chilly by then as it had been the previous night.

You make your way down the steps outside of your home at the same hour as usual, pulling the hood of a crimson cloak over your head before setting out for the town that neighbors your own. It’s a bit more of a walk than you’d prefer under most circumstances, but the bakery there pays well and you enjoy the work itself, which actually makes your daily travel quite tolerable. You’re even capable of enjoying it, sometimes, especially when you’re feeling childish enough to stop and pick a makeshift bouquet from some of the plants that line the trail through the woods.

You’d done just that today, and you can’t help but smile to yourself as you look down at the sprigs of lavender and mint that you’d gathered as you went along. You breathe deeply, inhaling as you bring the handful of herbs close to your face, and the way their scent washes over you is enough to calm you even beyond the serenity that’d already been present in your leisurely pace.

You arrive at the inevitable fork in the path before too long, and you’re caught so off guard when you look down to the base of the signposted oak tree that you nearly trip over your own feet. The purple-haired wolf is there, as he usually is, but the real surprise is in the fact he’s _awake_ , his ears perked keenly at the sound of your approach. The sight of him sitting upright would’ve been enough on its own to bring your commute to a screeching halt, but it’s made even more jarring when you realize that he’s staring at you.

His eyes are strikingly violet, narrowed to borderline slits under the soft tousle of his bangs. You’re this close to being fully mesmerized by them, but then he meets your gaze and slowly licks his lips, and you feel your heart drop straight into your stomach. You promptly take a step back, flinching at the sharp crunch of golden brown leaves under your heel, but you end up freezing altogether when you realize that he’s still just sitting there.

You remain motionless for as long as you can, preparing to bolt if he were to so much as lift a claw at you, but upon closer inspection, you notice that his expression seems to fall more along the lines of sleepy, rather than predatory.

“Hey,” he says, after a moment, and his tone is so casual that you’re nearly convinced that this is all a dream. “You know that I can see you even if you don’t move, right?”

You relax a little, then, reorienting your posture until you’re able to find a stance that feels a bit more natural.

“Y-yeah, I know. I’m not _that_ much of a fool,” you reply, and you almost immediately regret saying anything at all. Your remark had somehow managed to slip out with far more sarcasm than you’d intended, and you nervously bite your lip, swallowing thickly as you consider the potential consequences of that mistake. The purple-haired wolf lets out a tired groan.

“Shut up. I’ll crush you,” he retorts, though he doesn’t actually sound like he’s all that annoyed with you, even despite his harsh words. “You can admit that you’re afraid of me. I don’t care if you are. I’m used to scaring people.”

“N-no, it’s not that,” you say, and you’re not entirely lying, but your voice still wavers when you speak, which doesn’t do you any favors. “It’s just... I don’t know. I’ve never met a wolf before in my life, and now I’m standing here talking to one like it’s no big deal.”

You give a cautious laugh before falling into silence. You’d never really expected to end up in this situation, at least not anytime soon, but now that you’re here, you have no idea what to do. You should probably be on your way, in all honesty, as you dread the thought of being late to work for the third time this week, but you also don’t want to pass up the opportunity to learn more about the purple-haired wolf.

You’re starting to think that you actually _are_ a fool, but you still find yourself attempting to strike up a conversation with him.

“What’s your name?” you ask. He doesn’t give you an answer right away, but instead breathes out a long, low hum that lasts a number of seconds, as if to let you know that he isn’t blatantly ignoring your question.

“Atsushi,” he replies at last, and you repeat his name back to him, letting each syllable roll smoothly over your tongue. “What’s yours?”

You hesitate. It’s not like he’s given you any legitimate reason to distrust him so far, but you’re still hesitant to tell him your real name. You’d be reprimanded enough for your carelessness if anyone were to find out that you’d given personal details to a stranger, let alone a _wolf_ that you’d met in the _woods_.

 _Wolves are born liars_ , or so the story goes. You wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if the rumors were wrong, but you decide to play it safe anyway.

“Red,” you say, trying to pour as much honesty as possible into your tone. It’s a plausible enough name, you figure, and Atsushi seems to believe you.

“You’re kind of annoying, little Red,” he drawls, and you’re about to argue that you’re not _little_ , but then he rises to his feet, and you find yourself feeling intimidated all over again.

You hadn’t really noticed it when he’d been sitting on the ground, but he’s _huge_ , so huge that you don’t think you’d have any hope of running from him if worse came to worst, given the sheer size of his stride. You’d been a reasonable distance away from him this whole time, but it takes him merely two steps to close the gap, towering directly over you until all you can do is stare meekly up at him from under his own shadow.

Your heart pounds in your throat as he backs you into the trunk of a nearby tree, leaning in so close that you can feel his breath puff warmly over your face. He smells like spiced sugar, which seems odd to you, but you’re too focused on the way his fangs are glinting in the sunlight to fully process the thought.

“You talk too much. It makes me want to eat you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a9wdfJKbHa0)!


End file.
